


Under a Glass in My Museum

by ETNMystic



Category: Escape the Night (Web Series), Escape the Night Fanon, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, chaotic neutral?, grey area of morality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-27 02:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19781722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETNMystic/pseuds/ETNMystic
Summary: Mystic awakens to find herself in a glass case. Eventually more souls emerge in her museum.





	1. Trust Me, and I'll Keep You Safe

Mystic gasped for breath as she came to consciousness.

She blinked as she adjusted to the light; a room decked in gold with empty glass cases emerged in her vision. Something sees off. Stepping forward she soon falters back as she hits a glass pane in front of her. She placed her hands out to the sides and behind her; glass panes covered all sides and glass cases surrounded her on every side.

What happened? The last thing she remembered was being in her apartment, in her bedroom, writing. And now.....she was here. 

"But....where is here?" she wondered. 

All of a sudden, she heard the clicking of expensive-sounding shoes. Out of nowhere, a gorgeous woman, dressed head to toe in gold, emerged into her line of sight, carrying a staff. Men began to surround her; all of them had glowing, gold eyes.

"What's going on?" Mystic asked in a panic.  
"Who are you?"

The woman's voice was smooth, yet domineering. 

"I am the Collector," she said.

The Collector? Mystic knew she'd heard that name before, but from where? She tried to wrack her brain as the Collector continued to speak.

"And I've just saved you."

Mystic blinked in confusion.

"Saved me?" she said.  
"I'm in a glass case! And wait, I thought the Collector was the guy in the pyramid on Jabberwock Island."

"Asaph," she spat.   
"He is nothing more than an attempt of a copycat of me."

"Okay, but I'm still inside of a glass case. I'm trapped!"

The Collector smiled in amusement. 

"Oh, sweet child. You do not understand. I have saved you from the one who has endlessly pursued you."

The anger on her face slowly morphed into confusion.

"You....you mean....?"

The Collector nodded.

"The Cursed God does not know of this museum. He cannot track it."

In spite of this assurance, Mystic was skeptical. 

"How do I know you're not working for him?"

"Your skepticism is healthy, but I assure you. He does not even know that _I_ exist."

But this still didn't convince her. 

"Prove it," Mystic challenged.  
"Prove you don't work for him."

With a single nod, the Collector gestured to a few guards. Soon enough they returned, carrying a clock with a goblin creature atop it. 

"What the hell is that?"

"This is the Armageddon Clock," she explained.  
"Every sunrise at 6 am, whatever is out of its exhibit turns to dust and cannot return from death."

"That.....doesn't exactly prove you're not working for him."

The Collector sighed.

"Very well then. What if I told you that I'm willing to destroy him in a near instant?"

Now _this_ sparked her intrigue.

"Go on."

"Should he somehow know of the existence of this museum and attempt to take you, I will turn him to dust."

"But.....he's a cursed entity. How can you turn him to dust? He's a Cursed _God._ It feels like he kind of outranks you."

"Titles are merely labels to hide one's weaknesses. He is weak; he wears his emotions on his sleeves. I've seen how obsessed he is about you, and that is his Achilles heel. It is what can be used to destroy him. Nonetheless my promise remains. I shall grant you security, and in return, you agree to stay a part of this exhibit. In fact, _you_ are the main attraction."

"Main attraction?"

The Collector nodded once more.

"The one who can break down the barrier between reality and fiction _deserves_ to be the main attraction of her exhibit. And worry not about loneliness. Soon your friends will join you."

She gestured to the empty glass cases surrounding Mystic's. 

"Now I have other business to attend to. I have a list of souls to collect, and soon one shall join you in this exhibit."

Without another word, the Collector left Mystic in confusion.


	2. Gotta Keep You At a Distance

Mystic dropped to the floor of her casing, conflicted. Was this Collector telling the truth? Could this be a way for her to escape the Cursed God forever? But was this really any better?

On the floor, she began to notice that her casing was relatively larger than an average casing. It at least had enough room for her to lie down on the floor to sleep. And indeed, there was a small blanket, cot-like material, and a pillow. And for some reason, oxygen was being pumped into the casing. But....she thought that the museum was in purgatory. Why would she need oxygen?

It was at that moment she noticed that she'd been styled differently. A white rose flower crown was on her head and she found herself in a flowy, light-material, white dress. Outside of her casing was a sticker of some kind. Would it be some kind of indication of why she was there? But try as she might, she couldn't see it. 

With a sigh, Mystic crawled over to the makeshift bed and tucked herself in, praying to whatever uncorrupted deity was out there, that this would just be a bad dream.

* * *

She started awake as a whooshing sound echoed around the room. Looking up and around, she turned to see the Collector returning. In her hand was a neon-green orb of some kind with a face. Mystic tried to see if it was anyone she could recognize, but it was difficult for her to make it out. 

"This will be an excellent second addition," the Collector chuckled.

She strutted over to Mystic, an air of power following her.

"Are you enjoying your new sanctuary?"

"I'm not sure if I'd call it a sanctuary. And why did you leave me mobile? Don't most exhibits stay still?"

"I figured it's time to have a moving one. Besides, my other collection, one of those you may recognize, is at rest already."

Without a word after, the Collector turned and blew the soul towards one of the open cases. It popped through the glass and grew into a column of green smoke, snaking downwards as it revealed a girl in a lavender _Gone With the Wind_ -esque dress, two white gloves, a parasol, and a bonnet, with her hair in tight Southern ringlets. A few moments after she'd appeared in the casing, Mystic saw her gasp for breath as she came to.

In spite of the changes, Mystic recognized her immediately.

"Shit," she whispered under her breath.  
"Alice, I'm so sorry."

Mystic squinted her eyes and could _just_ make out the sticker on her casing: _The Southern Belle._

_So the sticker is a role? Like **Escape the Night,** I guess?_

She could see the Collector approach Alice and speak with her. She too had the same look of confusion that Mystic had had when she awoke in her casing. The Collector seemed to take a bit less time with her than she had with Mystic. The Collector pulled out three more souls and sent them to their respective casings. 

The Gardener.

The Jokester.

The Debutante.

Envy, Candy Pop, and Penelope, respectively. All facing Mystic. All able to move. All able to speak with the Collector. But Mystic was unable to hear them. Five total souls. 

She saw Alice and Envy speaking with one another and Penelope trying not to snap at Candy Pop for making jokes. Mystic, however, had no one. This was the deepest feeling of isolation she'd ever experienced.

 _Maybe it would be better if the Cursed God had me,_ she thought as she teared up. 

She turned around and saw the exhibit just outside. Squinting, she could just make out a few faces.

Destorm.

Liza. 

Justine.

Why were they all there?

She banged on her casing, desperate to get out of this damning isolation, until she fell to the floor exhausted.


	3. Find Me

More and more souls began to pile inside the exhibit overtime: Ines the Countess, Dooper the Salesman, Celeste the Astronomer, Stella the Showgirl, Erica the Matchmaker, Tristen the Author, Bailey the Zoologist, just to name a few. 

Everyday Mystic would try banging on the glass, in the hopes of making a dent, a crack, even just a scratch! But nothing. By this point, she'd resorted to screaming as well.

"Let me out! Let me out!" she cried, slamming her fists into the casing.

She began to become exhausted much more quickly and today was a particularly draining experience. She'd been flinging her whole body up against the glass, in the hope that maybe the force of her weight would make some kind of dent. But as per usual, she saw nothing. 

Mystic dropped to the floor of the casing, feeling the pulsing sensation all through her body. Her fists were bruised practically everywhere. Panting she got up to try again, but her legs were wobbly. She was holding out in the hopes of a miracle.

All of a sudden, she spotted a figure moving in the distance. Hopeful, she practically slammed into the glass.

"Help!" she shrieked.  
"Help! Someone help us!"

The figure skidded to a halt and came closer. Brown boots? Beige outfit? Is it?

"Liza!" Mystic gasped in relief.

"Mystic!" Liza exclaimed.  
"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I got taken by the Collector, and so did the rest of them. Wait a second. You were in one of those cases! How did you get out?"

"I don't know. The last thing I remember is having my throat slit by a harpy. How are you moving? Everyone I saw was frozen."

"I don't know! I was just in my bedroom in my apartment, and then I found myself in here. Can you break us out?"

Liza gave a second for thought.

"No, but I think I know someone who might. If I can find a way to contact him, that is. Hang tight. It might be a while, but I promise that you _will_ get out." 

With a quick wave, she dashed off into the distance before darting to the right. This ended up raising Mystic's spirits a little, but not by much. How long had it been? One? Two? Three weeks since she got here? If Liza was right, she just hoped that help would be there soon. Like really soon.


End file.
